See, this is sort of my vanity spot. I just post whatever comes to mind here, more or less. I don't troll the news sites looking for stuff to snark about, for instance. I have a job. A job with dedicated IT personnel who have no sense of humor about YouTube, gun forums, or Blogspot.
Anyway, when I get to ranting and raving and expressing all the pity I feel for myself, feel free to skip that one and read something else if you want.
Seriously, folks, don't let me get too maudlin on you.
Yesterday sucked. In fact, most of my long weekend sucked and this entire week has sucked. But that's the universe for you; sometimes it's your turn to be the guy everyone can look at and think, "Well, this is humiliating, but at least I'm not that poor bastard over there."
Tomorrow I'm on duty and therefore get to attend the local high school football game for free. I have a pickup truck, a mulletastic Camaro complete with T-tops, a bitchin' minivan with cool remote-controlled doors, and a 100-year-old Victorian farmhouse within walking distance of DiCarlo's Pizza, China House, Radio Shack, True Value hardware, TWO bookstores and the public library. I've got a beautiful wife and two strapping sons and a baby you'd have to see to believe. I've got two big dogs. I've got more guns than I really need and money in the bank. I teach kids about reading and the battle of Thermopylae for a living (Thermopylae is not in the offical curriculum, but everybody's got to have perks.) Hell, I get two weeks off in the summer to do another job or travel or take classes or whatever I want. Life is good on balance.
It's interesting to me, because I actually wrote about a day where everything seemed to go right a couple of months ago, and there were zero comments about that.
My biggest problem in life, and I'm being deadly serious now, is that there are so many things I want to do that I fear there's no way to do them all in one lifetime. So many ideas, so many opportunities. This is a good problem to have. The average guy living in a village in India would laugh at my "problems."
"Oh, it is very sad that you have to pick up your kids in your slightly older car because your new and shiny car is in use, sir! It makes me ashamed of the way I carried on when all my sons left for the city to find work in call centers and they couldn't write to me because I never got to learn to read--hearing about your struggle of owning too many automobiles and being too fat from eating delicious and plentiful food has really put the recent pandemic in the village into perspective. Yes, my entire family is dead and I live under a piece of corrugated tin in the mud, but imagine how sad I would be if my third car would not start?"
Don't look at me like that. They're a sarcastic bunch. Oh, and I'm going to solve my biggest problem tonight: I'm going to finish posting this and go to bed. There I will sleep for hours, baby willing.
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